


Hold on, I still need you

by Fadingtogold



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Chapter count may change, Don't worry, Eating Disorders, Eventual Smut, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, It will end happily I promise, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Park Seonghwa is Whipped, Rating May Change, References to Depression, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Strangers to Lovers, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, There will be fluff too, Wakes & Funerals, one of the boys do die, or as happily as it can i guess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:00:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29094633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fadingtogold/pseuds/Fadingtogold
Summary: For as long as Hongjoong can remember, he has always been thinking a lot. He thinks and thinks and thinks until it feels like everything is spinning around him. He thinks until he grows afraid of closing his eyes, in case his thoughts come back to haunt him at night.
Relationships: Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 32





	1. I'd be so lost if you left me alone

**Author's Note:**

> hi everyone!  
> i'm back, and this time i've brought ANGST.
> 
> no but seriously. this story is heavy and please heed the tags. i'll put warnings in the tags before every chapter and you can always message me on twitter at @shiningkhj for a summary. please be careful and don't read this if you think it will trigger you. 
> 
> WARNING THIS CHAPTER INCLUDES:  
> \- panic attacks  
> \- mentioned eating disorders  
> \- past parental neglect/abuse  
> \- mentioned depression  
> \- references to past substance abuse (cigarettes)  
> \- mentions of alcoholism (not any of the main characters)
> 
> please proceed with caution and take care of yourselves.

Sometimes Hongjoong thinks back to his childhood and wonders if he’s always been like this. So… unsure of everything, overthinking every little thing as if it means something more than it’s letting on. Anxious. He doesn’t remember not being this anxious either. Sometimes he wonders if everyone’s like he is, that they’re just better than him at hiding it. 

For as long as Hongjoong can remember, he has always been thinking a lot. He thinks and thinks and thinks until it feels like everything is spinning around him. He thinks until he grows afraid of closing his eyes, in case his thoughts come back to haunt him at night.

Hongjoong is certainly not a stranger to bad dreams. He wouldn’t call them nightmares, since he doesn’t wake up with a racing heart and cold sweat. That’s not to say that the dreams are pleasant either, because they’re definitely not. Something bad always happens and it’s always his fault, people always die and he never does enough. In a way, Hongjoong thinks that these dreams are worse than nightmares, because he can’t just wake up from them. He always has to keep living them, living with whatever failure he is in that particular dream.

It’s similar to real life. Hongjoong feels like he’s never enough, he always makes mistakes and he always hurts people. That’s what he thinks about when he’s not dreaming. 

Hongjoong thinks that he turned out like this after his father suddenly left. He doesn’t remember much about the person he was before that, and he doesn’t remember his dad too well either. The few times Hongjoong has asked his mother about why his father left, she simply shrugged, telling him that they fell out of love. It never made sense how much she cried when she told him, Hongjoong always thought.

***

Hongjoong stares at the canvas in front of him. He’s working on his latest assignment. The theme is “thoughts” and it’s due in at the end of term, but Hongjoong hasn’t even started. Every time he sits down to start, he’s consumed by his own thoughts. Hongjoong’s roommate Yunho suggested that he should just turn in the blank canvas with the motivation that he’d been thinking instead of painting. 

He met Yunho about a year after his dad left, and they’ve been friends since. Hongjoong worries about Yunho -just like he does with all his friends- and he can’t stop. Back in high school, Yunho used to be really depressed. Even though he got better, Hongjoong still can’t stop worrying. 

Hongjoong stares through the window and into the dark evening. It’s almost winter. Yunho hates winter. 

Hongjoong’s other two friends -San and Wooyoung- are in love. Like really in love. They’ve been dating since _forever_ , since before Hongjoong knew either of them.

He worries for them too. For their love and for their hearts. Knives stab his heart every time he sees San struggles trying to finish his food. He’s in pain every time he sees Wooyoung whispering soft words of encouragement in his lover’s ear. It hurts to see them happy because he’s always afraid that everything will turn bad again. He’s scared that San will go back to starving himself and that Wooyoung will start smoking too much again.

It’s like Hongjoong’s mind insists on carrying everyone's pain in an attempt to make them better, but it never does. It just makes him worry for them. His mother used to tell him that he’s empathetic, selfless. But that couldn’t be further from the truth. Hongjoong is a selfish bastard who just wants everyone to be doing great all the time so that he doesn’t have to worry for them. That’s what his brain tells him at night at least.

After staring at the canvas for some more, Hongjoong leaves his room. His and Yunho’s apartment is small, but large enough for the two of them.

The door to Yunho’s room is open and Hongjoong can see that he’s lying on his bed like a starfish. Hongjoong lets out a sharp breath of air through his nose, like you do when you see something mildly amusing.

Hongjoong enters Yunho’s room and pushes him to make some room on the bed. They do this often. Just… lie down next to each other. Sometimes they don’t even say anything.

“Are you okay?” Hongjoong asks after some hesitation. He knows that he asks too often, but he can’t help it. It’s like an itch that doesn’t go away unless he asks.

Yunho sighs and turns his head.

“I am, just like last time you asked. You shouldn’t worry so much Joong, I’m happy for the first time since we were kids, and I’ve been happy since we started college. I truly am happy, I promise.” Yunho smiles and Hongjoong gives him a small smile in return.

He wants to believe Yunho, he does. Still, just like with San and Wooyoung, he can’t get rid of the fear that everything will get bad again.

Yunho’s hand finds Hongjoong’s hair and gently cards through it until it ends up at the back of his head, where it just pets idly.

“I just… I keep thinking-”

“You think too much Joong…”

He knows that he does.

***

San and Wooyoung are performing at the school’s annual autumn festival. They’re “somewhere in the middle of the show” is what they told Hongjoong, who’s currently sitting in a chair in the front row. He doesn’t know if he can really call it sitting, since he has slipped down so far that people have actually tripped on his legs trying to walk past him. He didn’t sleep much last night because his brain kept coming up with every possible worst-case scenario that could happen during the show.

When San and Wooyoung finally enter the stage, Hongjoong sits up properly and watches intently. They’re dancing to a soft piano piece and to Hongjoong, it almost looks like they’re floating across the stage. 

The performance is over as soon as it starts, even though Hongjoong is pretty sure that he watched it all and didn’t zone out.

Applause echo through the hall and the pair join their hands and lift them towards the ceiling before bowing. San’s shirt rides up with their hands and Hongjoong catches a glimpse of his ribs protruding.

_Not again. No no no nonono-_

Hongjoong stands up hastily, ignoring the way his head spins, and rushes to get out of the auditorium. He feels sick.

Just as he reaches the exit, he collides with someone. He bumps his head into the person’s chest but quickly pushes past them to head to the toilets. 

Hongjoong drops to his knees after locking the door behind him and he throws up.

He feels disgusting. How did he not notice that San had gotten so thin again? _Stupid stupid stupid_. _Bad friend bad bad bad bad_ -

Someone knocks on the door.

“Uh, are you okay?” 

Hongjoong doesn’t know that voice. Is there a line outside? His mind is ready to start yelling at him for being in the way, but the voice from outside interrupted it.

“You can take as much time as you need, I’ll just wait out here if you want to talk.”

_Why?_ Hongjoong wants to say. _Why do you care about me?_

“Oh, right! You’re not dying or anything right? I don’t need to call an ambulance?”

“I’m… fine,” Hongjoong says, resting his head against the door.

“I don’t know you and even I know that that’s not true, but you said that you don’t need urgent care, so that’s something, I guess.” Hongjoong hears the voice chuckle from the other side of the door.

He doesn’t say anything for a while.

“I’m Seonghwa, by the way. What’s your name?”

_Seonghwa_. Hongjoong wants to try it out on his tongue, but he doesn’t.

“Hongjoong.”

“It’s nice to meet you Hongjoong,” the voic- Seonghwa says.

_If you knew me, you wouldn’t say that_ , Hongjoong thinks. 

Seonghwa talks to him through the door about all kinds of things. He’s a third-year literature student and he lives with his best friend Yeosang. He gets sexiled constantly because Yeosang brings his boyfriend Jongho over. Jongho’s apparently somewhat of a vocal god along with being a first-year music student, his other friend Mingi dropped out and works at the campus café, and Yeosang’s a second-year theater student.

Hongjoong feels himself calm down as he listens to Seonghwa ramble about his life. For the first time in a long time, his mind is quiet.

After turning the lock, Hongjoong opens the door gently, careful to not startle Seonghwa. 

Hongjoong pauses for a moment before coming out of the bathroom. He feels nervous to face Seonghwa. With his gaze set on the ground, the first thing he sees of Seonghwa is his shoes. Nice black leather shoes contrasting starkly with the small kittens on his socks.

Seonghwa is about a head taller than Hongjoong and it makes Hongjoong want to hide in the bathroom again. He’s used to being towered over by Yunho, but this isn’t Yunho. This is Seonghwa, met-half-an-hour-ago, _stranger_ , Seonghwa.

Hongjoong lifts his gaze to meet Seonghwa, but quickly averts it again. He was never good with eye contact. Still, he spots the small smile ghosting Seonghwa’s lips. 

Heat rushes to Hongjoong’s face because Seonghwa is incredibly beautiful and seems to be able to see right through Hongjoong. 

“How are you feeling?” Seonghwa asks.

“Uh I-”

“Joong!”

Hongjoong is interrupted by the sound of Yunho’s voice. Multiple people run up to him. San and Wooyoung force him into a crushing hug.

“We were so worried!” Wooyoung exclaims, slowly letting go.

“We saw you running off but we couldn’t leave the show. I’m so sorry Hongjoong,” San says.

“It’s okay.”

The attention shifts to Seonghwa for a moment and San does his best at hiding the cheeky smile that forms on his face. Hongjoong opens his mouth to introduce them to each other, but is immediately cut off by Yunho.

“We’ve met before. I know his friend Mingi,” Yunho explains.

“San and I meet Yeosang quite often in the studio,” Wooyoung says.

Hongjoong nods along, mind blocking out the conversation they have with each other after. His vision loses focus and for a while it feels like he’s not even alive. Sometimes he stays like this for hours, just… _floating_.

His brain keeps replaying the way San’s ribs were so painfully obvious. Over and over again, he sees that image, until San is nothing but a dancing skeleton. 

“...joong?” Someone taps him on the shoulder. 

Hongjoong inhales sharply. 

“Huh?”

“Woo asked if you want to go home,” Yunho says, bringing his hand up to stroke the back of Hongjoong’s head a couple of times.

Hongjoong hates it, the way his friends have to care for him. He’s not the one that has suffered or been sick. He was never suicidal or anorexic, never smoked a pack of cigarettes per day. _Selfish fucking bastard_ , his mind tells him. 

Hongjoong utters a quiet _okay_ before turning to Seonghwa.

“Uh, thanks for checking that I wasn’t dying.” 

He hurries off before Seonghwa can respond.

Back home, the four of them sit around the small living room table in Hongjoong and Yunho’s apartment. Various boxes of take out sit in front of them, waiting to be devoured. 

Hongjoong glances at San, whose hand is shaking from how hard he grips his chopsticks. 

The sight is not at all unfamiliar, yet Hongjoong’s chest aches just as it did the first time he saw San struggle. Years and years ago, way back in their second year of high school.

Hongjoong remembers it vividly, the sight of San and Wooyoung entering the classroom for the first time. They’d been holding hands, even back then. They were thin -scrawny -but for entirely different reasons, no illness, only boys growing up.

But as the years passed and the expectations got higher and it became harder to sleep; the image of San’s hollow cheeks on the first day of senior year still comes back as a cruel reminder in the back of Hongjoong’s mind.

It only got worse -so so much worse -before it got better. Hongjoong doubts the memory of San lying lifeless on the floor of the school bathroom will ever stop haunting him. He remembers it all, down to the finest detail. The loose clothes his friend was wearing, the blood from his nose forming a small pool by his face, and the scream Wooyoung let out upon seeing his boyfriend like that.

At night it replays over and over again, never stopping, no matter how much Hongjoong begs for it to.

San picks up a piece of chicken and puts it in his mouth. For a moment all Hongjoong can focus on is the way San’s jaw moves as he chews.

“So, what were you and Seonghwa doing?” Yunho’s voice forces him to look away.

“Yeah! Do tell, Joongie,” Wooyoung adds, leaning forward and resting his chin in his hand.

“Oh, he just made sure I wasn’t dying in the bathroom.” Hongjoong feels his face heat up as he recalls back to earlier.

“And?” San urges him to continue.

“He talked to me through the door until I calmed down. After I came out, you came.”

Wooyoung lets out a disappointed sigh. “That’s it?”

Hongjoong nods, picking up some more food so that he doesn’t have to talk more about it.

“You looked good together,” San says with a smirk that makes Hongjoong choke on what he’s chewing.

“Your height difference was really cute actually,” Yunho adds, patting Hongjoong on the back as he coughs.

Hongjoong knows this conversation, they’ve had it before. Whenever Hongjoong is in close proximity to a guy, his friends like to fantasize about them dating.

But dating is… weird. Hongjoong’s never really dated anyone before. He hasn’t even had one of those silly relationships when he was a kid. Love feels like something that’s just made up, and if it wasn’t for San and Wooyoung, Hongjoong doubts that he’d believe in it at all.

Still, Hongjoong has kissed people and he’s had sex, just without feelings, no-strings-attached. It’s fine, sex, but honestly, Hongjoong finds himself zoning out through the majority of it, so he doesn’t really bother anymore.

It is difficult for him to really pinpoint why he’s afraid of relationships. A lot of the time he feels completely unlovable, his brain relentlessly telling him that people deserve someone better than himself. He’s scared of someone leaving him, abandoning him like his father did. The fact that nothing is ever permanent, that everything can and will eventually leave him is one of the things Hongjoong fears the most.

“I gave him your number by the way,” Wooyoung says before stuffing his face with a large amount of noodles.

“Wha- why?” Hongjoong stutters out. 

“Don’t worry Joongie, we just thought that it’d be good for you to have more friends than just us three,” San adds and Hongjoong’s heart sinks.

_They’re leaving me leaving me all alone alone alone alone_

_Of course they are unlovable unlovable_

_hated hated hated_

***

Hongjoong’s phone buzzes next to him on the bed.

_Unknown number_

_Hi is this Hongjoong? It’s Seonghwa! I got your number from Wooyoung. I really enjoyed talking to you and I hope we can get to know each other! :)_

He considers ignoring Seonghwa and just going to sleep, but a sort of restlessness forms inside of him. Quickly, he types out a short response before silencing his phone.

_It was nice meeting you too. I’ll see you around :)_

Hongjoong does see him around, the following weekend in fact. He wouldn't call himself a party person and neither is Yunho, which is why it takes Hongjoong by surprise when his friend drags him along to some random frat party.

They’re greeted at the door by an already very drunk San, clinging onto Wooyoung for stability.

“You came! We’re gonna have such a good timeee,” San slurs.

They walk further into the house and Hongjoong is already overwhelmed by the loud music and the smell of alcohol. He looks at Yunho for support.

“Let’s just stay for a little, yeah? Come get me when you want to leave,” Yunho says, leaving him in the hallway.

It’s so unlike Yunho. He never just leaves Hongjoong like that, not that they usually party anyway.

Hongjoong walks up the stairs, pushing past the drunk people shoving their tongues down each other's throats. He checks the doors to closed rooms, trying to find somewhere he can be by himself.

The second to last one in the hallway is empty and Hongjoong shuts the door behind himself when he enters.

Sitting down against the wall, Hongjoong closes his eyes and tilts his head up towards the ceiling. Exhaling heavily, he feels the bass of the music through the floor.

Hongjoong hates parties. He hates people and he hates alcohol. 

But he loves Yunho, and he can never say no to Yunho. 

It’s moments like this that Hongjoong desperately wishes that he was normal. He feels like he doesn’t have an excuse to be hiding alone in someone's bedroom. Yunho does, and San, and Wooyoung, but they’re all downstairs dancing. 

There’s nothing wrong with Hongjoong, maybe that’s why he feels so bad about sitting up here. There’s nothing wrong with him, yet he’s acting like there is.

Sometimes he wishes that he still had his dad, just to have someone to talk to. The times Hongjoong has tried to talk to his mother she’s either dismissed him or shut down completely.

At the same time, he hates his dad. What kind of person just fucking _leaves_ their family?

Hongjoong is broken out of his thoughts when the bedroom door opens and someone walks in, closing the door quickly behind them. Glancing up, Hongjoong is met with Seonghwa, whose hair is sticking to his forehead from what he can only assume is sweat.

Seonghwa takes a deep breath before looking around the room, gaze eventually landing on Hongjoong. His eyes widen in surprise.

“Oh hey! Is it okay if I stay for a little? It’s a bit too crowded down there for my taste.” Seonghwa throws him a smile that makes Hongjoong’s heart feel like it’s actually beating in his chest for once.

“Yeah, sure.”

Seonghwa sits down next to him, leaving enough room between them for another person to be able to squeeze in. Hongjoong doesn’t realize that his shoulders were up to his ears until he drops them down again. He’s thankful for the space Seonghwa’s giving him.

Wandering down, Hongjoong’s eyes land on Seonghwa’s collarbones, more specifically on the gold glitter dusted over them. If he didn’t know better, he might have thought that Seonghwa was some otherworldly being. 

“Were you dragged here by your friends too?” Hongjoong finds himself asking.

“Is it obvious?” Seonghwa laughs lightly, “I’m not really a party person, y’know? I mean, I enjoy a drink as much as the next guy, but I prefer it in a less… overwhelming environment.”

Hongjoong nods, “Me too, but I don’t drink, so I don’t even have that going for me.”

Alcohol, for Hongjoong, is associated with his mother. More specifically with her drunken meltdowns in the middle of the night. In periods, there were a lot of those nights, resulting in Hongjoong taking himself to school, bags under his eyes and mismatched socks. 

Hongjoong shudders at the memory and Seonghwa throws him a concerned glance. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

“It’s okay, it’s just... my mother is an alcoholic, so I don’t drink for that reason,” Hongjoong assures before immediately questioning why he just said that. Why did he share that with Seonghwa?

Hongjoong panics a bit. Why does it feel so easy to talk to Seonghwa? Why is he so comfortable?

“I understand, not like the alcoholism part, but I get why you don’t drink.”

Something touches the hand Hongjoong rests between them and he jerks it back, head turning to look. He hadn’t realized how close to Seonghwa it had inched.

“Sorry that I startled you. Is it okay if I… hold your hand?”

“Yeah,” Hongjoong murmurs. 

Seonghwa’s hand is warm, and it’s larger than Hongjoong’s by at least a few inches. It’s weird, feeling Seonghwa’s thumb drawing soft circles on his hand. Hongjoong doesn’t think he can even recall the last time someone held his hand. 

Hongjoong closes his eyes for a moment, breathing in the sound of music from downstairs and the warmth of Seonghwa’s hand in his. It’s nice. Calm. He hasn’t been calm in a while.

“What are you thinking about?” Seonghwa asks, turning his head to look right at Hongjoong.

“Nothing,” Hongjoong exhales with a smile, looking at Seonghwa, “and it’s so wonderful.”

In this room, it’s like nothing exists except for the two of them. San, Wooyoung, Yunho, his mom, in here, they don’t exist. 

“It’s my first time seeing you smile,” whispers Seonghwa and if it were any moment other than this one, Hongjoong would have stopped smiling. But not this time. He smiles wider, teeth and all, eyes turning into crescents and cheeks aching. 

It’s… liberating, in a way Hongjoong can’t explain. He frowns so much that he wonders if the line that forms between his eyebrows will be a permanent addition to his face by the time he turns 25. 

Hongjoong wishes that he could stay in this moment forever. In this specific point in time where all he can focus on is Seonghwa’s hand enveloping his. 

The moment is shattered when someone slams open the door, eyes searching the room while another person sucks on their neck. 

Seonghwa’s eyes find Hongjoong’s, silently asking _Do you want to leave?_

As the two of them walk downstairs again, Hongjoong’s gaze lands on Yunho, who’s sitting in the middle of the living room, licking aggressively into some guy’s mouth. Hongjoong doesn’t recognize him, nor does he recognize _this_ Yunho. 

From his glazed over eyes, to his fingers desperately grabbing at the bright red hair of the person in front of him, or the flush of his face traveling down his body to his chest, visible due to many buttons being unbuttoned. 

_What’s going on?_

Hongjoong stares for another moment, unable to comprehend how _different_ Yunho looks. 

With a squeeze of his hand, Seonghwa gets Hongjoong’s attention.

“Are you okay?” he asks gently, looking down into Hongjoong’s eyes. 

“I think so, it’s just- look at him.” He points to Yunho. “he’s just- he’s acting so different. I don’t know, maybe I’m just overexaggerating.”

“What do you mean? Mingi’s been talking my ear off about his dates with Yunho.”

“His- huh?” Hongjoong looks back down and realizes that the flaming red hair indeed belongs to Mingi, the most popular employee at the campus cafe. 

“Didn’t you know?”

“No.”

Why didn’t he say anything? Didn’t they tell each other everything?

Hongjoong walks down the rest of the stairs and up to Yunho, whose eyes widen when they land on Hongjoong. 

“Uh, I’m gonna go home. You can keep doing-” He gestures in Mingi’s general direction.

“Hongjoong I-” Yunho starts.

“It’s fine, I’ll just- I’ll just go.”

***

Hongjoong stares at his ceiling, eyes stinging and heart beating loudly in his chest.

_Sensitive too sensitive why would he tell you anyway? Replaceable unwanted_

Best friends don’t need to tell each other everything right? Right? Hongjoong probably keeps things from Yunho too?

He stares at the empty canvas leaning against one of the walls. How do you capture your thoughts when you have so many?

Is Yunho still at the party with Mingi? Hongjoong has so many questions. When did they meet? What did they do for their first date? When did Yunho turn into _this_? 

Hongjoong remembers them talking when he’d lost his virginity a couple of years ago. He remembers them talking about his hookups. He remembers Yunho saying every time that he “isn’t interested”. When did that change?

The phone beside him buzzes, startling him out of his thoughts. It’s Seonghwa.

_Are you okay?_

Hongjoong doesn’t deserve Seonghwa. They barely know each other but he still makes sure to check on Hongjoong. But he lies.

_yeah_

_Text me if you want to talk_

  
Hongjoong struggles to fall asleep that night. 


	2. I can't imagine a world with you gone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi everyone! i'm back with more angst.
> 
> i forgot to mention at the beginning of last chapter that this takes place in the US. Since i'm not very familiar with college culture in Korea and i didn't want homophobia as a theme in this story. forgive me for any inaccuracies i am not american.
> 
> MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING
> 
> -suicide and finding someone dead  
> -funerals  
> -grief
> 
> please don't read if any of these might trigger you or cause you harm.

_Hongjoong woke up from his mother’s harsh shaking of his shoulder. The sun burned his eyes as he opened them and he just wanted to hide under his blanket like he’d done all summer._

_“Hongjoong, come on, you can’t keep doing this. The new neighbors are having a gathering and we’re going,” his mother said, the annoyance clearly present in her voice._

_A small whine left Hongjoong’s lips and he brought the covers over his face again. He really didn’t want to meet any new people right now._

_“I know that you’re upset about your dad leaving, but you have to pull yourself together. Imagine the pain I’m feeling, and I’m not hiding in bed, am I?” his mother sighs._

_It made Hongjoong feel bad. His mother was right, she knew his dad for almost twenty years, and Hongjoong only knew him for six. It would make sense that she was hurting more. Did that mean that Hongjoong was overreacting? Or that his mother was stronger than him?_

_It was strange, Hongjoong didn’t recall anything from the day his father left, even though it was just a couple of months ago. All his memories from that time were gone. As if a witch or a fairy had taken them from him. He knew that they didn’t exist, his mother had told him as much after he’d voiced his theory._

_Slowly, Hongjoong made his way out of bed and towards his dresser. He pulled out a pair of jeans that ended a little too high up on his ankles. They just hadn’t gotten around to getting new ones. One of the knees was ripped and stained, and Hongjoong hoped that his mother would take him shopping soon. He put on his favorite t-shirt, a pale blue one with cartoon fish on it that his dad bought him when they went to the aquarium on winter break. By now the fish were fading in color and the fabric was incredibly soft from so many washes. He didn’t bother brushing his hair, instead just letting it fall in messy waves over his forehead, covering his eyes._

_Hongjoong’s feet dragged along the pavement as they walked to the house across the street. Not that it really mattered, his shoes were two sizes too small anyway._

_“Can you knock on the door, Joong-ah? I need to finish my cigarette,” his mother said, inhaling another breath of smoke._

_The woman that opened the door wore a yellow sundress with flowers on and had a large smile decorating her face._

_“Hello, you must be Hongjoong! Come on in and make yourself at home. Is your mother coming too?” the woman asked and Hongjoong just looked over to where his mother was standing a couple of feet away._

_Most of the people living on their street had already arrived and the loud voices combined with unknown people made Hongjoong anxious._

_Even though his mother would scold him for not socializing, Hongjoong walked upstairs to hide for a little while. He sat down against the wall in one of the rooms and tried to breathe. It had been harder to do so lately and his brain always felt like static._

_Someone walked in and Hongjoong’s head shot up in the direction of the door. He had expected it to be his mother, but standing there was a boy around his age._

_“Who are you?” the boy asked._

_“Uh, I’m Hongjoong. Your neighbor.”_

_“Ah! I’m Yunho, nice to meet you!” Yunho’s face broke into a smile and he brought his hand closer for Hongjoong to shake._

_Yunho introduced him to his collection of comics, and to say that Hongjoong was hooked was an understatement._

_He went over to Yunho’s house as often as he could, which was almost every day, since his mother didn’t care much anyway._

_It felt like having a family again._

***

Like a cruel reminder of last night, Hongjoong is greeted by darkness under his eyes. He wonders if Yunho came home at all, but doesn’t dare leave his room to check. 

Hongjoong sighs. It’s not like they fought or anything, he has no reason to be nervous to see Yunho. They’ll just talk about it and then everything will be back to normal.

_Back to normal_. Hongjoong doesn’t know what _normal_ is anymore. What is _normal_ when nothing in your life is any form of permanent? Suffering. Suffering is normal, and so is sadness, anxiety and guilt. Does he even want normal?

He puts on a sweater multiple sizes too large. It’s one of the white ones that Yunho has like a _thousand_ of. He probably hasn’t even noticed that Hongjoong took this one. 

Taking a deep breath, Hongjoong leaves his room and heads to Yunho’s. His door is closed, which is unusual, but a lot has been unusual about Yunho lately. 

Yunho used to always say that he was saving his virginity for _the one_ , not for marriage. 

_Sitting on the plush rug in the middle of the room at midnight, was Hongjoong and Yunho, who turned 16 just a couple of minutes ago._

_They were talking about love, despite not knowing much about it. Hongjoong had had a girlfriend, whom he had dated even though he was pretty much certain that he was gay. She probably sensed it and broke up with him because of it._

_Yunho, on the other hand, had barely even held hands with someone other than Hongjoong. And as the complete opposite to Hongjoong, who longed after intimacy as if it were a drug, Yunho was no experience whatsoever._

_“I want to save all that,” he said, “for the right person._ My _person.”_

_“Like, until marriage?”_

_“No! Marriage doesn’t matter if it’s_ the one _, we’ll be together forever regardless.”_

_Hongjoong didn’t really understand. Wouldn’t it be better if you had some experience?_

_“Okay. I hope you find your person soon,” Hongjoong said instead, and he meant it._

Maybe Mingi is _the one_. Hongjoong hopes that he’s not, because Yunho never said anything about him. 

Hongjoong knocks on the door.

“Yunho? Are you awake?”

He listens for any sound of his friend in there and knocks harder when he doesn’t hear anything.

“Yunho?” Hongjoong asks again, a bit louder than last time. “I’m not mad, I just want to talk to you.”

Why isn’t he answering? He has to be in there since his door is closed. Did- did something happen? Hongjoong’s heart rate picks up.

“Yunho, you’re scaring me. I’m coming in.”

When Hongjoong opens the door, he isn’t sure of what to expect, but at the same time he knows before he even sees it. 

He freezes.

The image ever present in his nightmares has manifested in front of him. 

From a beam in the ceiling and a rough rope hangs Yunho, face blue and eyes still open in sick bliss. It’s twisted, but Hongjoong swears there’s a smile on his friend’s face.

Hongjoong’s legs give out when he tries to move. Eyes wide, he can’t tear them away from Yunho. 

A knife lies on the bed and Hongjoong stumbles over to it, getting on the chair next to Yunho.

“Yu-Yunho?” He pats his friend's face gently.

Hongjoong brings the knife to the rope and tries his best to cut through it while holding onto Yunho. Gravity takes its hold of Yunho when the knife goes through and both he and Hongjoong fall to the floor. The knife slips and cuts Hongjoong’s wrist as his head hits something sharp.

  
His head spins, but it doesn’t hurt.

“Yunho?! Can you hear me?” Hongjoong places his fingers against Yunho’s neck, desperately searching for a pulse but finding none. Reaching for his phone, Hongjoong sloppily dials 911 and places the call on speaker.

“He-hello? My- my friend he’s-” Hongjoong can’t stop shaking.

“Sir? What’s your emergency?”

“He’s- he tried to, to kill himself.”

“Can you give me the address? What’s your name?”

Hongjoong gives the dispatcher his name and their address, struggling for a moment to remember it.

“Is your friend breathing, Hongjoong? An ambulance is on the way, it’ll only take a few minutes.”

“N-no, he- he doesn’t even have a pulse.”

Hongjoong stares at Yunho’s face, lips purple and last night's makeup smudged by his eyes.

“The ambulance is almost there. Do you know CPR, Hongjoong?” The dispatcher’s voice sounds distant even though the phone is right next to him.

“Ye-yeah,” Hongjoong says, placing his hands on Yunho’s chest and pushing down.

Hongjoong doesn’t know how long he does CPR for before the paramedics show up. He sees their mouths moving but he can’t hear anything.

One of them listens to Yunho’s heart and then he shakes his head to the other one.

Wh a t?

Almost in the blink of an eye, Yunho is covered by a large blanket. From his head to the tip of his toes, it’s almost as if he’s hiding. Just like when they were kids playing hide and seek. Yunho used to always hide under blankets because he thought no one could see him, not realizing that a very Yunho-shaped form in fact was visible.

Someone places their hand on Hongjoong’s shoulder and he finally looks away from Yunho for a moment.

“I’m so sorry. He was gone before we even came here. There was nothing we could do,” she says.

Yunho’s… gone?

Hongjoong doesn’t realize that they’ve left with Yunho until he looks to where he was laying.

Empty.

The noose lies a couple feet from him, the knife next to it.

Reaching for his phone, Hongjoong calls the first person in his call history. On the third ring, the phone on the other end is picked up.

_“Hongjoong?”_ The voice rings out in the empty room. _“Wha-”_

“Seo-Seong _hwa_ ,” Hongjoong whimpers, voice breaking.

_“Hongjoong? What’s wrong? Where are you?”_

Hongjoong doesn’t remember answering, but when Seonghwa bursts through the front door, he knows that he must have.

Seonghwa calls out for him, but he can’t bring himself to answer. 

When Seonghwa enters Yunho’s room his eyes dart from the noose, to the knife, and finally to Hongjoong, who’s kneeling on the floor.

“What happened?” he breathes, taking one of Hongjoong’s hands.

Hongjoong lifts his other hand and shakingly points to the rope next to them. “Y-Yunho.” His eyes flood with tears that immediately spill over, running down his cheeks and wetting the carpet.

“ _Oh_.” The air leaves Seonghwa’s lungs at the implication. “Is he- will he be okay?”

“Gone,” Hongjoong whispers, because that’s what he was told.

“Hongjoong, I- your arm!”

Hongjoong shifts his gaze to see what Seonghwa is looking at. His arm. There’s a cut in the white sweater - _Yunho’s_ white sweater- and the fabric is red all around the edges from the cut underneath. It feels like he’s looking at someone else’s arm. He knows it’s supposed to hurt. But he doesn’t feel _anything_.

_Why doesn’t it hurt?_

He wishes it were hurting. 

Seonghwa rolls up Hongjoong’s sleeve, careful to avoid the cut. His eyes scan it for a moment before he goes to get bandages in the bathroom. He’s back within the blink of an eye.

“I don’t think it needs stitches,” he murmurs while cleaning the cut.

Hongjoong doesn’t feel the usual burn of the alcohol and he can’t barely even smell it. He watches Seonghwa wrap gauze around his arm, eyes hazy and struggling to focus.

Nothing feels real.

Yunho isn’t gone…?

The paramedics… they must have been mistaken?

He said that he was happy. Happier than ever. Did he… lie?

_No no no no Yunho would never lie_

By a sick twist of fate, Hongjoong’s phone rings. And Wooyoung is the one calling.

For a moment he considers not answering, but he needs to have this conversation sooner or later and he doubts that he’d be able to call Wooyoung or San himself.

_“Hey! Did you hear the ambulance? People are saying someone died in your building. Have you heard anything?”_ Wooyoung’s voice rings out in the room and Seonghwa chokes on a breath.

Hongjoong doesn’t say anything. How is he supposed to? Wooyoung doesn’t know and he will probably never be the same after knowing. Hongjoong holds all that in his hands.

“Woo-” Hongjoong cracks again, dropping the phone and sobbing into his hands.

“Wooyoung, it’s Seonghwa. I don’t know how to say this, but it’s- the ambulance was for Yunho. I’m so sorry.”

Wooyoung’s breath hitches. _“What? No… that can’t be true…”_ he trails off and his desperate call for San rings through the phone speaker like a cruel reminder of what has happened.

Wooyoung and San arrive fifteen minutes later, messy haired and red eyed. Hongjoong doesn’t even look at them when they enter the room. He holds the rope so tightly his knuckles turn white, eyes distant.

“What happened?” San asks carefully.

“He hasn’t told me much. I believe he found Yunho and called paramedics, but that it was too late. After they left, he called me,” Seonghwa says, eyeing Hongjoong.

  
“Oh, Hongjoong.” San sits down and wraps his arms tightly around Hongjoong, letting him cry into his shoulder.

Wooyoung just stands there for a while. His eyes are slowly moving across the room. From the tipped over chair, to the knife and blood on the floor, to Hongjoong. He sits down on Yunho’s bed, head in his hands and eyes clenched shut.

Hongjoong shakes in San’s hold, but he’s not crying anymore. A gentle hand strokes the back of his head, just like Yunho used to.

Removing himself from San’s shoulder, Hongjoong looks up with empty eyes.

Time passes the way water drops from a leaking faucet; slow but so painfully present.

Hongjoong wishes that he could feel something, he wishes it would hurt.

But if it hurts, that means it’s real.

He’s stuck in a loop of denial that lifts for brief moments, only to fog up again. The world becomes a little clearer when he hears his friends’ voices or when he feels their footsteps through the floorboards.

“Did he leave a note?” Wooyoung asks, breaking the heavy silence in the room.

“I don’t know,” says Hongjoong, voice rough, cracking, “I didn’t dare to look for one.”

Wooyoung looks around for a moment. The rustling sound of paper makes everyone in the room look towards him. He reads in silence for a while before a wet chuckle and something that sounds a lot like _fucking Jeong Yunho_ leaves his mouth.

He hands Hongjoong the letter when he’s done, and Hongjoong accepts it with a shaky hand. Tears are running freely down Wooyoung’s face.

 _This_ , Hongjoong thinks, is his coming-of-age-movie-moment. If he imagines it hard enough, he can even hear the sad background music.

_I’m sorry, Hongjoong. I’m sorry that it came to this and I’m sorry that I lied to you so much at the end. I decided on the date two months ago and maybe that’s why I felt so light. I didn’t lie about that, even though the reason for my happiness wasn’t exactly what you hoped for. To be honest, it took a lot of thinking to pick a date, but I knew that I couldn’t wait until spring. I didn’t want it to be too close to your birthday or to Christmas, I want you to live without me ruining those special days._

_I really thought I was getting better for a while. But maybe I wasn’t made for this world. Everything just hurts so much. Breathing is hard these days and it’s so dark outside. Every night I go to bed hoping that I won’t wake up in the morning, but I always do and I don’t think I can do it anymore, not for a single more day._

_I stopped going to therapy a couple of months ago. When I went out, I was actually seeing Mingi. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you about him. I just didn’t want to get your hopes up, because I knew that I’d leave soon anyway. I don’t know if Mingi is the one, but he’s the closest to it I’ve ever come across. If things were different, he might have been, maybe we would have gotten married and died of old age in each other’s arms. Tell him I’m sorry too. I’m sorry for introducing him into your life like that yesterday too. I thought that if I made you angry with me, it would lessen the blow of this._

_Tell Wooyoung to stay away from the cigarettes or I’ll start haunting him._

_Tell San to eat another bite at each meal, but to not worry about it because it’s just for me._

_Tell them that I’m sorry for leaving._

_Talk to people about what you’re feeling. Find someone to lean on, someone that can make you feel calm, even for just a moment._

_Please be happy, Joongie, if not for yourself, for me. Try to not worry so much for people. Live a long life and come join me when you’re old and weak. I’ll wait for you to be reborn so that we can be born again together. Let’s be best friends in our next lives too? I hope we’ll have it easier then._

_I love you, Joong and I’m sorry._

_Your Yunho._

Every word stabs at Hongjoong’s chest and it’s the worst pain he’s ever felt, but then it just… fades into nothingness. Like it was never there to begin with.

He reads it again and again just to feel that pain again, just to feel anything.

San is reading over his shoulder and Hongjoong feels his tears as they fall onto the skin that isn’t covered by Yunho’s sweater.

What did Hongjoong do for the world to be this cruel?

He sleeps with the rope in his bed that night.

***

Yunho’s funeral is planned for December 8th, and Hongjoong figures that he needs to tell Mingi at some point before that, in case he wants to attend.

He doesn’t even know what to say. _Hey, that guy you slept with for a while has killed himself. Wanna go to his funeral?_ Hongjoong has never even fucking _met_ Mingi.

Hongjoong wears Yunho’s bloodstained sweater for four days before San forces him to shower. San also wants him to throw the rope away, but Hongjoong doesn’t think he’s ready for that. It’s the last thing Yunho ever touched.

When Hongjoong looks himself in the mirror after showering, he doesn’t recognize himself at first. His eyes look dark, sunken in, without light reflecting off of them.

He takes one of Yunho’s shirts out of the laundry basket to wear because he doesn’t dare to enter his room. It smells a little like dirty laundry, but it also smells so much like Yunho. If he closes his eyes, Hongjoong can almost pretend that he’s hugging Yunho. Except it’s cold, and no one is cradling the back of his head.

As soon as he enters the café, Hongjoong wants to leave again.

Mingi stands behind the counter, waiting patiently for some older lady to order.

Hongjoong goes over his order before walking up to the counter.

“Hey! Aren’t you Hongjoong, Yunho’s friend?” Mingi gives him a smile. He doesn’t know yet.

“Yeah, that’s me. Can I have a hot chocolate?”

“Absolutely! Anything else?”

“Uh, when do you get off? I have something I want to talk to you about,” Hongjoong says, avoiding Mingi’s eyes.

“I have lunch in a little bit, you can go sit down and I’ll come with your drink and we can talk.”

Hongjoong sits down in one of the corners of the café mentally rehearsing what he’s going to tell Mingi.

Mingi comes over way to quickly with two mugs and a pastry. He sits down across from Hongjoong.

“Here you go. This is on the house as well,” he says pushing the pastry over to Hongjoong. “It’s really nice to finally meet you! Yunho always talks about you.”

Hongjoong swallows the lump in his throat before opening his mouth, “I don’t know how to tell you this but, Yunho, he’s-” He takes a deep breath. “He’s dead.”

Mingi freezes. “What?”

“He took his life a couple of days ago. I- I found him in his room, but he was already gone.” Hongjoong feels tears stinging behind his eyes.

“He’s gone?” 

Hongjoong nods, moving the pastry around with his fork absently. “He wanted me to tell you that he’s sorry. I don’t know if he talked to you about his idea of _the one_ but he said in his note that you’re the closest he’s ever gotten to finding that person.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Mingi curses wetly, wiping his tears away with the heel of his palm.

“His funeral is on the 8th. I think he would have liked you to come, but if you don’t feel like it, it’s fine.”

***

Entering church on the day of Yunho’s funeral rivals the agony of finding him dead. But instead of the sharp, stabbing pain that Hongjoong felt that day, it’s mellow, hitting him with each beat of his heart and flowing with the blood in his veins.

Hongjoong can’t see anything other than the casket. Reddish brown with the lid open, hiding Yunho until you turn the corner. 

At this moment, Hongjoong wishes that the roles were reversed. That he was the one laying cold in the casket for everyone to say their last goodbyes to. 

He hates Yunho, just for a second, for doing this to him. For leaving him. For making him say goodbye. This wasn’t how it was supposed to end.

The pain of it fills his lungs and blooms with every breath that he takes.

Hongjoong remembers the promise they made, he and Yunho. That they would die at the same moment, because neither of them could bear to live a second without the other.

But now Hongjoong has to. 

Hongjoong sits down in the very front of the church, as close to Yunho as he can. No one but him and Yunho’s parents have arrived yet and the air is so thick with sorrow that it’s hard to breathe.

These people, Hongjoong’s known them for the majority of his life and the first Jeong funeral he expected to go to was one of theirs. He feels for them. He can almost imagine the pain they’re feeling. The agony of burying your own child. Your child, who was supposed to outlive you and care for you when you’re old. Your child, who will forever be 20 years old.

  
Seonghwa arrives early and sits down next to Hongjoong at the front. He didn’t even know Yunho, only having met him once or twice and heard of him through Mingi’s words. But he still came, for Hongjoong. Having him there makes the pressure in Hongjoong’s chest ease slightly. Their fingers intertwine, and Seonghwa squeezes his hand.

Time trickles by ever so slowly as the church fills up with people who all knew Yunho in some regard. Quiet murmurs bounce off of the walls in an attempt to be respectful and Hongjoong barely notices when San and Wooyoung sit down on his left.

They’re both in suits that Hongjoong doesn’t recognize, that they probably bought for this occasion. Having just managed to squeeze into the suit he wore for his high school graduation, Hongjoong didn’t have to spend money on something he’d never wear again. This suit is what he wears to say goodbye, and he never wants to wear it again.

The room quiets down when the priest comes out. She stands in front of Yunho’s casket as she speaks, but Hongjoong can barely hear the words leaving her lips.

_We commit his body to its final resting place: earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust._

Once the service is over, everyone gets their chance to say goodbye at Yunho’s casket. Hongjoong approaches carefully, leaving Seonghwa seated at the front. He’s scared to round the corner, to see Yunho.

The air is punched out of Hongjoong’s lungs at the sight and he feels his knees start to give out.

Now he knows that it’s true what they say, that it looks just like he’s sleeping. Yunho’s blissed out eyes are now closed and the purple of his lips is replaced by a healthy pink, but they still curve up into a small smile.

The tears fall before Hongjoong even realizes that they’re coming.

He takes Yunho’s hand in his and envelopes their fingers. Yunho is so cold.

Hongjoong bends down and rests his head against Yunho’s chest. He half expects to still hear the steady heartbeat that he’s heard so many times. But it’s quiet.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to say,” Hongjoong whispers as a tear wets the fabric of Yunho’s shirt.

“You promised, you promised that you wouldn’t leave me. Why- why did you leave me? I can’t do this without you! We were supposed to grow old together, _die together_. How could you just leave me?!” he sobs into Yunho’s chest, desperately wishing for his hand to card through his hair.

“I’m sorry, Yunho, I’m so sorry. Why didn’t I notice that you were suffering? I failed you and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive myself. I was supposed to be your best friend, but I let you die. How am I supposed to live with that?

“I want you to rest well and be happy, okay? Don’t worry about us down here, we’ll be okay, I don’t know how, but we will be.”

Hongjoong doesn’t know how long he stays with Yunho for, but eventually Seonghwa comes up to him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“They need to get him ready for the burial.” Is all he says.

“I’m sorry, Yunho. Guh-” Hongjoong’s voice breaks, “Goodbye.”


	3. Can you hear me screaming? Please don't leave me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi everyone, this chapter will also be very heavy. but after this, things will start to get better.
> 
> TW:  
> \- Suicide   
> \- Grief  
> \- Self hatred
> 
> take care of yourselves.

Hongjoong turns in his _thoughts_ painting on the last day of term. It’s a self-portrait not too dissimilar to Van Gogh’s _At Eternity’s Gate_ , but instead of an entirely clear image, his head has been blended and dragged out until only a blurry mess remains. That’s how Hongjoong feels these days, he hasn’t been able to concentrate during his lectures and he finds no motivation to paint. The beginning of winter break is a real blessing, not only for Hongjoong, but for his grades too.

The school obviously has sympathy and understanding for his situation and has been vocal about giving him the time he needs to mourn and all that. All they ask is that Hongjoong tells them what he needs. But the thing is, he doesn’t know. He doesn’t fucking know what he needs. If he did, he wouldn’t be sitting in Yunho’s room clutching desperately at a pillow that hasn’t been slept on for two weeks. It smells so strongly of Yunho and Hongjoong can’t stop crying.

It’s even darker outside now and Hongjoong thinks that he understands what Yunho was talking about in his letter.

The unlocking of the front door breaks him out of his thoughts. He doesn’t bother wiping his eyes or putting the pillow away, at this point he’s past the shame that he initially felt about letting his emotions show.

“Joong?” Seonghwa calls out gently as he makes his way to Yunho’s room, where he knows Hongjoong will be.

As he enters, he flicks the light switch and lights up the ceiling lamp like he does every time he comes.

They’ve grown a lot closer over the past weeks, Hongjoong and Seonghwa. The latter comes over almost every night to check on Hongjoong and to have dinner with him. They- Seonghwa, Wooyoung and San – established pretty quickly that they didn’t feel comfortable with leaving Hongjoong alone for extended periods of time. In the beginning it was mainly San and Wooyoung that came over, but eventually they realized that they lost Yunho too and they have their own shit to deal with surrounding that. So, Seonghwa’s visits became much more frequent, until it ended up being him almost every day.

“You should really turn the light on when you’re sitting in here, you get so stuck in your own head when it’s dark,” Seonghwa says softly as he sits down on the bed next to Hongjoong, hugging him carefully until Hongjoong starts to tremble, then he lets go.

Physical contact has always been difficult for Hongjoong, becoming especially uncomfortable after his dad left. Perhaps it was because of his mothers suffocating hugs and cries at night that made Hongjoong feel like he couldn’t breathe. His mother never explicitly told him that it was his fault that his dad left, but he was always left with the impression after talking with her about it. Logically, Hongjoong knows that it’s never the child’s fault if a parent leaves, but emotionally, he hasn’t really come to that realization yet.

Yunho was the first person that Hongjoong felt comfortable being physical with. But even that took years of trust to even hug for a short time, even more so for the cuddling that they used to do.

After taking that step with Yunho, it felt easier to do so with San and Wooyoung, with Seonghwa, but now that he’s gone, Hongjoong feels like he’s six years old again and every touch is his mother’s bruising grip and sharp fingernails digging into his skin. The thing is, he feels so clearly that he wants physical affection, that he _needs_ it, but it’s like his body is refusing it, like his mind and his body are two opposite magnets trying to get as far away from each other as possible. So, they came up with a system, Seonghwa hugs Hongjoong, loose enough for him to be able to move in the hug and when his body starts resisting, Seonghwa lets go.

It’s nice. Even though he can’t breathe properly and his muscles tense up to the point of making is body shake. The warmth of someone else, of _Seonghwa_ , comforts him more than anything else could right now.

Hongjoong feels bad about Seonghwa coming over all the time, mainly because the latter also works part time and now that they’re finally on a break from school he should be able to relax. He hates needing a baby sitter, but he also cries every night after Seonghwa leaves to go back home.

“What did you do today?” Seonghwa asks. He doesn’t ask how today was, because he already knows.

“His parents came over to get the last of his stuff that they didn’t let me keep.” Hongjoong pauses to collect himself when he feels his throat start to close up again. “It was… hard. _Fuck_ , it felt like- like I was giving away parts of him and now I barely have any left.”

He hadn’t seen Yunho’s parents since the funeral, and even though they had planned for them to come over today, it was still overwhelming. They let Hongjoong keep a box of Yunho’s things for himself. It’s mainly clothes and stuff from when they were kids that Mr. and Mrs. Jeong brought with them, framed pictures and drawings, and one of Yunho’s pillows. Hongjoong’s thankful that they let him have this stuff, because at least through it, he has the memories of Yunho.

It's strange, having the person you loved most in the world be reduced to a dozen or so items in a carboard box.

  
***

“Do you want to go ice skating?” Seonghwa asks on a particularly sunny evening.

Hongjoong looks up from his phone and blinks a couple of times. Does he want to go? The last time he went ice skating was with Yunho when they were 11 and Hongjoong sprained his ankle. Yunho had to carry him all the way home.

He does want to, but the thought of leaving the apartment suddenly overwhelms him.

“I can hear you thinking from here, Joong. We don’t have to go, I just thought it would be fun since the weather’s so nice.” Curse Seonghwa for being the nicest person on earth.

“I do want to. It’s just… I can’t skate very well,” Hongjoong says meekly.

“Oh, don’t worry about that! I’ll make sure you don’t fall. I promise.” Seonghwa gives him the warmest smile, and Hongjoong swears his heart just fluttered in his chest.

Seonghwa helps Hongjoong find the right size for his skates and then ties the laces for him, and Hongjoong’s heart, while it is drowning in sorrow, feels a little bit warmer.

If San were here, he would have probably made a crude joke about Seonghwa being on his knees, and just the thought makes Hongjoong’s cheeks go a little pink. He doesn’t know if this is a date or not, and he doesn’t dare ask either. Not like it matters too much anyway, as long as he gets to spend time with Seonghwa.

Before Seonghwa, Hongjoong’s never felt this way about anyone. Not his two high school girlfriends and not the boy he went out with the summer before college. The first two didn’t work out obviously, but not just because Hongjoong is gay. It’s the fact that he has a hard time opening up that causes problems every time. So much of who he is comes from bad experiences and they aren’t exactly something that he goes around talking about willingly. He hides away so much of himself that all that is left feels like the free version of a paid product.

However, with Seonghwa, Hongjoong didn’t even get the chance to hide his heart. He wore it on his sleeve when they first bumped into each other and it was lying on the ground after breaking free from Hongjoong’s chest when he found Yunho; but instead of stomping on it, the way Hongjoong is used to having his heart treated, Seonghwa took it in both of his hands and treated it like it was the most precious thing in the world.

The ice rink isn’t full of people, but it’s not empty either. It’s a happy balance between being too crowded and being anxious that everyone is going to notice Hongjoong’s bad skating.

Seonghwa takes Hongjoong’s hand as they walk out onto the ice. It’s a good thing that he did, because Hongjoong immediately loses his balance, grabbing Seonghwa’s other hand as and clinging to it until he regains his footing.

When he looks up from his feet, he sees that Seonghwa has that same endeared smile that he always has when he looks at Hongjoong. That same smile that has been plastered on his face since the first time they met. It makes heat creep up to the tips of Hongjoong’s ears.

“Can we just stay here for a bit? Until I get used to it?” Hongjoong asks, looking down at how is fingers are still intertwined with Seonghwa’s. He makes no move to let go and neither does Seonghwa.

“Of course. Then I can skate and you just hang on to me.”

After a couple of minutes of standing, Hongjoong feels a little less like a baby reindeer on the ice. He’s more like a toddler reindeer now.

“I think I’m ready now,” says Hongjoong, squeezing Seonghwa’s hands for emphasis.

Seonghwa takes a couple smooth strides and then they’re gliding. It’s like flying, Hongjoong thinks.

With another couple of steps, they’re gliding faster. Hongjoong lets go of Seonghwa and glides on his own.

“Hwa! Look! I’m doing it!” he calls gleefully.

“Look at you go! You’ll be a pro in no time,” Seonghwa laughs.

That was most definitely a lie, because just a couple seconds later, Hongjoong crashes straight into Seonghwa and both of them hit the ice with a _thud_.

Hongjoong expects it to hurt more, so he clenches his eyes shut. To his surprise, it doesn’t. When he opens them again his eyes meet Seonghwa’s. He’s lying on top of him, and they’re so close that their noses are touching. 

Before Hongjoong can even open his mouth to apologize, Seonghwa lets out a chuckle.

“You weren’t lying when you said you don’t skate well,” he laughs.

Hongjoong feels his cheeks heat up. “’m sorry.”

They share a pizza afterwards that Seonghwa has to finish. Hongjoong’s appetite has never been big, but right now he manages to eat even less than he usually does.

Neither of them are saying anything, but it’s not awkward or tense, it’s comfortable. Hongjoong wonders what dream of his that Seonghwa walked out of for him to be so perfect. In a way it’s terrifying, because Seonghwa feels too good to be true and Hongjoong is so scared of being abandoned.

It makes him feel guilty, being with Seonghwa, having fun. Like he’s not supposed to because he just lost someone. Yunho would want him to be happy, he even said so in his letter, but still, there’s something heavy in his stomach that tells him that he’s not allowed to enjoy _anything_ in his life without Yunho.

He likes Seonghwa _so much_ and it makes him feel _so bad_. The little voice in his head tells him that he’s a bad person for replacing Yunho so quickly.

“I was talking with Yeosang and Jongho the other day and they mentioned that they really want to meet you,” Seonghwa says.

Hongjoong looks up from his food, surprised. “They do? Have you told them about me?”

“Only good things.”

The little voice immediately makes Hongjoong doubt Seonghwa’s words.

_What good things are there even to tell?_

_Weak pitiful needy annoying useless worthless stupid bad bad bad-_

“We don’t have to go anytime soon, or at all for that matter, but you can think about it.” Seonghwa takes Hongjoong’s hand over the table. “Let’s take everything at your pace.”

  
***  
  


Seonghwa sleeps over for the first time on December 20th. He’s already stayed over later than he usually does and as he’s getting dressed in the hallway, Hongjoong feels heart sink to the pit of his stomach.

He grabs at Seonghwa’s coat sleeve like he’s 7 years old all over again, begging his mother not to leave him alone at night again. Tears sting in his eyes and he feels sick to his stomach at the memory.

“Please don’t go,” Hongjoong whispers.

He half expects Seonghwa to pull free and leave the same way he’s used to. But Seonghwa’s eyes soften as he looks at Hongjoong and he takes off his coat again.

“You want me to stay?” he asks.

Hongjoong nods, “Please.”

It’s the first time in years that Hongjoong shares a bed with someone that isn’t Yunho. Seonghwa offered to sleep on the couch, but Hongjoong quickly protested. He needs… closeness.

Lying down so close to each other makes Hongjoong’s skin crawl a little, but it’s worth it because of how comforted he feels. Seonghwa’s holding his hand and rubbing small, gentle circles against his skin with his thumb.

It’s strange, how the comfort and the sorrow can coexist, kind of like the water he’s drowning in is warm and not ice cold.

Seonghwa turns to lie on his side. “Did something happen today?”

Hongjoong thinks about it for a second. Nothing really did happen. But a lot of memories came creeping back up from where he had buried them. Christmas time is always a little difficult since he doesn’t have any family that he sees and even though Yunho’s family has always treated him as their own, there was always an ache in his chest for something that was his own. Hongjoong had been invited to the Jeongs’ this year too, but going there would probably break his heart beyond repair.

It’s his first holiday without Yunho, and that alone hurts enough.

“I just remembered some bad times,” he says, turning to look at Seonghwa.

“Do you want to talk about them?”

“Maybe later.”

Seonghwa is such a good person, Hongjoong thinks. He always respects Hongjoong’s wishes and doesn’t make him hate himself so much. Not even Yunho had been able to speak against the little voice in Hongjoong’s head. The fact that Seonghwa can, is a little scary; but it also makes Hongjoong feel more like person when he’s with Seonghwa.

“I had a dog when I was younger. Did I tell you that?” Seonghwa asks.

Hongjoong’s interest is immediately piqued at the mention of a dog.

He shakes his head.

“He’s a golden retriever, we got him when I was 8.”

“What’s his name?” Hongjoong asks.

“Leo. He’s the nicest dog ever. I know every dog owner says that, but it’s true. He’s the best. If you want, we can go over and visit him sometime.”

“Really? I always wanted a dog, but my mother never let me have one.”

“We could go after New Year’s if you want, I’m sure my parents would love to meet you,” Seonghwa says.

Hongjoong turns so that he’s facing Seonghwa, eyes shining as he talks. “I love dogs- no, I love _all_ animals.”

“Even worms?”

“ _Especially_ worms.”

***

Hongjoong hates the fact that he takes up so much of his friends’ time. That they lose sleep because of him. He hates being a burden.

So, he does his best to convince them that he’s healing, even though every day feels identical to the last. He carves a smile into his face that even he can’t tell if it’s genuine or not after a while. He makes an effort to laugh even though he feels empty on the inside. He makes sure that he’s never in Yunho’s room when his friends come over.

Eventually, his friends ease up on the baby sitting, coming only every three days or so, sometimes less.

Sometimes even he thinks that he’s gotten better. There are mornings when he wakes up and thinks that everything was just a bad dream.

But then it hits again.

It hits like when you break the surface of water. Then he’s pulled down and chained to the bottom.

Drowning.

***

On New Year’s Eve, that’s when it hits. And it’s the worst it’s been since the funeral.

Instead of marking new beginnings, today marks the end of so much and Hongjoong doesn’t know how he didn’t realize that it would before today. It marks the end of the last year he got to spend with Yunho and the start of the rest of Hongjoong’s life without him. Because for the rest of his life he will look back at 2020 and see the year he lost his best friend.

He and Yunho always used to get a little too drunk and sing to YouTube karaoke videos during New Year’s. They’d giggle as Yunho waxed poetics about his future soulmate and sleep in the same bed as the fireworks died down. When they’d wake up the next morning, they would eat the pizza that they forgot to put in the fridge the night before. Then, they’d go to the weird souvenir shop one bus stop away and buy each other a new keychain that they’d carry with them for the year. On New Year’s Day 2020 Hongjoong bought Yunho a corgi with a flower crown, and Yunho bought Hongjoong a so-ugly-it’s-cute purple monster. The keychains of yesteryears are kept in a painted cardboard box that Yunho drew an ugly version of Shinee’s Key on.

Today, Seonghwa, San and Wooyoung are coming over. They’re not coming until later at night because they’re seeing family beforehand. Hongjoong’s thankful. At least he gets some time to pull himself together.

It stings a little, though, that all his friends have family to see and he doesn’t. Hongjoong feels like he deserves it, being alone. He’s not exactly sure why, but the feeling’s so strong that there has to be some truth in it.

Hongjoong is just about to take a mug out of the cupboard when he knocks down the one next to it. It hits the floor with a crashing sound that makes him flinch before he looks down.

On the floor, in a thousand colorful pieces, is the mug that he and Yunho painted on Yunho’s seventh birthday. It’s colorful to the point of being a little difficult to look at, but it is- was- Yunho’s favorite.

And just like that, he’s pulled under, lungs burning as if he were drowning. Tears drop onto the floor before he can even register that he’s crying.

Hongjoong grabs desperately at the pieces of ceramic, ignoring that they’re cutting into his fingers and palms, like that would magically make the mug whole again.

Even though he’s breathing it’s like he can’t get any air and his vision flickers as he stands up, more pieces cutting into the soles of his feet. With unstable legs, he makes his way to his room.

Old habits die hard, as they say, and Hongjoong can’t help but agree as he digs around underneath his mattress for his razorblades. It’s been a while, years in fact, since he last cut himself. The broken look on Yunho’s face when he found out by accident was enough for Hongjoong to stop, hating himself for making his friend feel so upset.

But Yunho isn’t here anymore.

So, Hongjoong can do whatever the fuck he wants.

And that’s exactly the problem. _Yunho isn’t here anymore._

Hongjoong feels dizzy with grief and his heart is beating out of his chest like it’s trying to kill him.

He stumbles into Yunho’s room, collapsing onto the floor, back against the bed. Like every night, when he closes his eyes, he is haunted by Yunho. Memories from when they were kids, his body hanging from the ceiling, the funeral. They’re burned into the backs of his eyelids and not even exhaustion can make them go away.

Hongjoong just wants it to stop. For everything to stop.

So, he makes a rash decision and brings the razor to his skin. He makes a straight cut along his left wrist and up his forearm, and watches the blood seep out quickly. _Fuck_ _it hurts_. But he still does the same to his right arm.

The pain is euphoric and Hongjoong feels high on it. It feels like breathing again even though he’s only able to take short stuttering breaths. He tries hard to keep his eyes open even as his vision blurs.

As he looks around the room one last time, his eyes land on the box of Yunho’s things and he wonders how many items will be in the cardboard box that will remain after he’s gone. What will be the objects that people want to remember him through? If someone wants to remember him at all, that is.

But it doesn’t matter anymore.

He’s dying.

And now he understands the smile on Yunho’s face.

\---

Seonghwa opens the door to Hongjoong’s apartment, walking in with San and Wooyoung behind him. They’ve brought all kinds of food because Wooyoung, as Seonghwa quickly learned, can’t make decisions for shit, so he just get everything to avoid the stress.

“Joong! We’re here!” he calls out as he takes his shoes off. Before going to find Hongjoong, he tells the others to take the food they brought to the living room.

He checks in Hongjoong’s room first, a small sigh leaving his lips when he finds it empty. Mentally, he prepares himself for seeing Hongjoong red eyed and teary. It hurts to see him like that, because even though they’ve only known each other for a little more than two months, Seonghwa really likes Hongjoong.

“Joong? You ok-” Seonghwa stops in his tracks when he sees Hongjoong on the floor.

He’s sitting there, lips curled up into a light smile and chest rising and falling in uneven, short breaths. His eyes are glazed over and unblinking, but what Seonghwa can’t seem to look away from is the _blood_. Gushing from the cuts in Hongjoong’s wrists and onto the floor.

“Oh _no_. No, no, _no no_!” Seonghwa rushes to Hongjoong’s side. “ _Help!_ _Please help!_ ” Seonghwa screams for his friends, voice breaking.

This must be what it was like for Hongjoong to find Yunho, but he was all alone then.

He hears the sound of rushing footsteps coming towards them.

“What’s wron- oh god!” Wooyoung cries out.

San takes his phone out of his pocket and quickly dials 911.

“Wooyoung, you need get some towels so that we can stop the bleeding, okay?” Seonghwa instructs as calmly as he can. His heart is beating out of his chest and he’s so dizzy that he’s thankful that he’s on the floor.

The cuts are _bad_ , but it’s impossible to tell _how_ bad because there’s just so much blood. It stains both of their clothes and pools on the hardwood floor. It looks like an image from a horror movie.

Seonghwa completely tunes out San’s conversation with the emergency dispatcher and focuses all his attention on Hongjoong, whose chest is still rising and falling with short and shallow breaths.

Wooyoung comes back with a heap of towels and sits down next to Seonghwa.

“We need to wrap them around his arms so that he doesn’t bleed out. You do the right one and I’ll do the left.”

Seonghwa does his best at wrapping Hongjoong’s wrist and putting pressure on it. His hands are working without him telling them to, but his mind is blank.

With a careful, bloody hand, Seonghwa pats Hongjoong’s cheek lightly, trying to get his attention. At first, he doesn’t react, which makes Seonghwa’s heart sink, but after a few more agonizing seconds his dazed eyes land on Seonghwa.

“Joong? It’s me. It’s gonna be okay, yeah? You’re gonna be okay,” Seonghwa says quietly.

Hongjoong squeezes his eyes shut. “No…” he whispers, opening his eyes to look straight at Seonghwa again. “’m goin’ to Yunho.”

Hongjoong’s eyes lose focus again and Seonghwa can’t get his attention no matter what he does. His chest is barely moving and his pulse feels weak under Seonghwa’s fingers.

Seonghwa puts his arms around Hongjoong’s neck and holds him tight. He cries into the space between Hongjoong’s shoulder and neck.

“Please, Joong. Stay with me. It’s not your time to go yet, _please don’t leave me_.”

**Author's Note:**

> yell at me on twitter or something @shiningkhj


End file.
